


To Turn The Sea On The Tide

by DeanstielsDaughter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Mating (Supernatural), Angel True Forms (Supernatural), Angel Wings, Angelhounds, Angels vs. Demons, Anxiety, Baku Monster, Canon Complient with some Divergence, Castiel Origins, Castiel's True Form (Supernatural), Character Death In Dream, Chuck Shurley is God, Creation, Dean Winchester-centric, Demon True Forms, Destiel - Freeform, Dreams, Gen, Heaven & Hell, Hellhounds, Hunt Gone Wrong, John Winchester Being an Asshole, M/M, Monster of the Week, Monsters, Original Character(s), Protective Siblings, Season/Series 11, Trippy, Unusual Monster, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester, darker fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:54:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28059534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanstielsDaughter/pseuds/DeanstielsDaughter
Summary: It was just supposed to be a simple hunt, but nothing is ever so simple when the Winchesters are involved. When Dean finds himself at the mercy of the monster of the week, he is taken on a strange dreamlike field trip through his own mind, and shown things he could have never dreamed up himself, along with a few things he wishes he could forget. He finds though, that's not the only things he's seeing. He's somehow attached to somebody else's memories as well: Castiel's.This is going to make for one awkward (but long overdue) conversation once Dean comes back mentally topside.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Title is sort of quoted from the song: More Than This by Roxy Music

Dean groaned upon opening his eyes.

His vision was still fuzzy when he blinked, nothing fully coming into focus right away or at all for that matter. He hadn’t remembered much beyond hitting his head. Or perhaps, getting hit in the head? It was all still quite a blur.

The hunter’s eyes watered. There was a distant echo. Somewhere, the sound of tires on asphalt came up from out of the nothingness, and the familiar sound of an ancient engine filled Dean’s ears.

Then, there were more tires. More asphalt. More cars. Dean blinked harder. He saw bright light and the outlines of a highway. Green trees and rolling brown fields of dead grass and corn surrounded the area.

It truly was the middle of nowhere and Dean could suddenly feel every inch of himself. It was as though all his molecules were tingling. All of his skin was vibrating at a foreign frequency. The fog in his brain still lingered like fallen leaves on the ground after a season change. Dean looked down at his fingers as he clenched them against his palms to make fists.

He could vaguely hear something else, like another kind of echo beyond the mind fog. It sounded so much like his brother Sam, but he couldn’t be sure.

_“Go together…it devours…find-!”_

It was all still so far away, and Dean found the words had vanished before he’d even had a chance to digest them. A different voice came next. A stronger one, one that sent shivers throughout Dean’s entire being.

_“What the absolute hell were you thinking?!”_

Dean abruptly spun around, so fast he swore time stood still, despite the sheer impossibility of such a thing. A sharp smell of gunpowder and leather filled the air. A familiar pair of lips flapped inside a nest of hardly shaven scruff. A young, short haired man, hunched in on himself, hands in his pockets, near a guardrail. The Impala was in front of him, idling on the side of the highway.

John Winchester had his finger in sixteen-year-old Dean’s face, wagging it, and yelling so loudly spittle flew through the air and Dean flinched at the sight of it landing on his younger self’s cheek. He tried to say something to his younger self. Tell him not to wipe it away. That John would grab his wrist and wrench it downward so hard that Dean would feel it for weeks. _Ballroom Blitz_ by Sweet was still bleeding through the radio.

It was no wonder Dean always hated that damn song.

Sam was in the backseat, practically in tears, but hiding it from John in hopes he wouldn’t be the next victim.

The words wouldn’t come out, no matter how Dean rasped and tried to wheeze them out.

Younger Dean screamed. Dean tried to move, but he was practically melting into the pavement. He looked up to see the sun had gotten closer than before. Its rays had practically liquified in the blue sky and caused a yellow paint like consistency to come from them. The temperature rose. The ground sizzled and popped as Dean finally managed to take a step forward from where he’d previously been frozen in place.

The moment he took that first step, he tumbled into nothingness.

The scene stayed above him, until it swirled too, and vanished like flushed water from a toilet bowl.

The song faded. The screaming, much like a strange melody now that it had been given the opportunity to linger, started to as well. The last sound to fade was the Impala’s engine purring as it awaited its passengers once more.

Dean felt immense pain once he hit the black nothingness. It was as though there was a clear floor underneath him. He poked and prodded at it and it rippled with every movement, much like a stone cast into a lake.

Dean pushed himself up from the invisible ground and sprung to his feet. He spun around again, hearing nothing, but his own heartbeat deep in his chest and even that was too loud.

Suddenly, there was a small burning sensation in the upper part of his left arm, and Dean winced and grabbed at it. He cradled the flesh and doubled over as it got slightly worse. The hunter hissed hot air through his teeth and clenched them.

His body was jerked to the right, as though a rather large hand had control. The scene changed. The darkness was gone. Dean was standing in a rather drafty and dirty old house with guileless light dancing with the dust and dirt particles that filled it. The windows were half covered in rotting boards. The floor was half gone already. The room was a Gravitron until Dean closed his eyes. He felt the motion cease and could also suddenly feel just how deep his fingernails had protruded into his palms.

There was a small trickle of blood from each crease. Dean stared for a moment, before he felt a freezing wall of draft hit him straight on. Dean cried out, feeling the sensation pass through him as quickly as it had come on. He heard a banshee-like cry and saw a slightly older version of himself than the previous moment in time go flying through the open door behind him.

The doppelganger groaned upon hitting the earth outside. Dean felt chills overtake him.

He remembered this hunt very well.

Why was he here though? It felt so real, but it had all happened two weeks after Sam’s departure to Stanford. The floor creaked and something broke into a sprint. Dean closed his eyes tight and prepared for the second wave of chill that was sure to pass through him.

It never came, but he would never forget what it had actually felt like that fateful day.

Dean watched him young adult visage sputter and convulse as the ghost he’d been chasing worked its way into his veins and skin and stayed awhile. He heard his younger self’s neck crack when he cocked his head. Dean could practically feel the death grip he’d had on his knife that day. The laugh that had come out of him as he’d stalked back into the house and into the back bedroom.

The kidnapped children in the back had screamed so loudly Dean bet if he ever went back to those woods, he’d still hear it.

Dean never talked about that hunt. His greatest failure, until John had showed up, stopped him from beating the last living breath out of a child, and unpossessed him in a matter of moments. The younger visage stepped away from the unconscious children, turned, and vomited. John pushed past him roughly, as though he were simply more trash upon the floor.

Even now, it brought tears to Dean’s eyes.

Why was he seeing it now?

Gravity was suddenly lost to him once again, and Dean flipped before landing upright once more in another black endless space.

“Hey!” Dean yelled into the void. “What gives?!”

The void didn’t dare give an answer.

“Where the hell am I?!”

Dean panted, trying his hardest to break through the barrier that had somehow made itself, even in the wake of nothing. His fist rippled the same as his fingers had. Dean banged his balled fist against the indiscernible forcefield surrounding him until the same burning pain from before ran through his arm and his half-crippled form bent over his knees and his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

It was a voice he’d never heard before that came next. Dean knew in his gut that it spoke no English, but somehow, he knew every word.

_“You are, by far, the most infinite one I’ve ever had.”_

Dean felt another scream welling up in his throat, catapulting through him and he felt no control, and no lack of speed to it. It came from him, a wave of anguish, and it drowned the unseeable enclosure all around him.

Cracks formed and spiderwebbed and started to fall into the fake floor. They dove in as though it were water and were swallowed whole, revealing another room of light beyond. Dean’s arm pulsed so painfully he swore it was glowing blue on the inside.

In fact, when he finally removed his hand and looked down, he found that it was.

 _“Interesting.”_ The voice cooed.

Dean felt as though he’d been pushed. He clenched his eyelids shut at the bright light and stumbled through the web he’d sewn with his vocal cords.


	2. Two

There was no time to think before Dean’s head was soup.

His mind felt twisted and the pressure was immense. It was as though a rather large hand had taken hold of his skull and squeezed it as hard as it possibly could. Dean ground his teeth, trying to suck in what little breaths he could in between trying to stay conscious.

Once the spinning stopped, Dean relaxed his muscles. The sound of silence was almost just as deafening as what he’d just gone through. The void was gone, and the light remained, surrounding Dean, and filling him with a strange sort of comfort he hadn’t felt since he was young.

There was a gentle layer of mist surrounding him as well. The white ground slowly bled green as a grass like substance formed below the hunter’s boots. The air remained clear as oil and Dean slowly looked around, cautiously reaching for a weapon in his belt area that he quickly realized wasn’t there.

There wasn’t a sound around. Just the sound of Dean’s heartbeat again, moving steady, as he’d taught himself over the years.

It had taken many a dangerous situation to curb the anxiety that most children wouldn’t have ever developed at such a young age.

Hunter’s children were truly a different breed.

Then, there was noise, but nothing like Dean had ever heard before. He’d witnessed monsters of all kinds communicating with one another. It was almost intoxicating, hearing them speak before death. It was such a strange feeling for Dean to find comfort in, but yet he did.

This was different.

There was no urge to kill, only a desire to listen. A few words he recognized here and there as he moved closer to the eloquently spoken paragraphs. In the distance, two strange creatures made of light, spoke to one another.

Dean figured he had to be dead, but he had died before, and this wasn’t it.

This wasn’t what you saw when you died. It was more like what one saw whilst tripping on something highly illicit. Though, Dean hadn’t done anything of the sort. At least, he didn’t think he had done anything like that before whatever was happening now had started happening. In fact, he couldn’t really remember much of anything that had happened before now.

“ _I sense two of them,”_ he somehow heard the voice say, even though, once again, he knew it wasn’t English.

The other figure nodded to the one who had spoken.

_“It is time.”_

The figures started to move. Dean could have called it walking, but it was almost as though they were one with the white light around all three of them, Dean included. They glided away, taking the scene with them, and Dean felt the burning sensation near his arm increase again.

“Son of a bitch…” Dean hissed and grabbed at the area.

It felt as though something were tugging under the skin. Dean touched his sleeve and rolled it up his arm. He felt his stomach drop to his feet the moment he stared at his deltoid. Where there once had been a white leftover scar, there was now, once more, a raised red skinned mark in the shape of a hand.

“ _Welcome, young ones.”_

The figures were back, both holding something that looked similar to them in their arms. The glowing little things resembled babies. Dean couldn’t help, but stare. It was strange, seeing these alien-like things acting so simple. So much like humans.

_“Interesting…”_

The next voice was the different one from before. The one that had referred to Dean as a “one”. Dean rotated from the light beings to see a new figure standing across from him. It was quite a Frankenstein’s monster. With the head of what looked like an anteater, the body of a badger, the feet of a dog, and the tail of a horse.

It stood on all fours and it smirked, honest to God, smirked at Dean.

Dean cocked his head, mouth half open in awe, and his mind fought between allowing him to rush it and try to pry the life from the strange thing and allowing him a few more moments to take it in and determine his next move.

“What in the Hell are you?” Dean asked.

Something made him stay put. Normally, he would have killed anything weird on the spot, but something was preventing it. Something was keeping him here, in this place, and talking to this thing.

“ _There is so much more to you than I originally anticipated.”_

The words coming out of the creature’s mouth overshadowed the scene behind Dean and it slowly faded away as quickly as it came on. The words the strange amalgamation spoke were jumbled, but still came out in Dean’s native tongue. Yet, he heard the truth behind them. The accent and the cadence of them. It was that of Asian descent.

Dean couldn’t understand Japanese at all. He didn’t speak it. He had barely tried to learn it over his many years of life. Bobby had always handled that aspect of the brothers’ lore and research.

The ability to understand the monster before him left the hunter both sideswiped and baffled. The creature cocked its head, mimicking Dean, and started taking a few steps towards him. Dean felt his throat go dry, his arm burned, and he stumbled as he tried to get away from it. The other creatures had been gone for quite a while, but Dean still reached for the area behind him. As if they could help him.

If his father could see him now, afraid of something he was most likely trained to kill.

The creature giggled, much like a child, and Dean felt his skin prickle and his stomach flip. It then vanished before his eyes and the place he’d once been standing no longer was.

Another spiderweb in a black room. Dean, feeling a strange wave of anxiety, pounded on the area with his fist. The cracks growing further and longer with every hit. If Dean could do what he’d done last time, he could find the creature again and figure it all out.

He had to figure out why he was here, wherever here was.

The panic welling up inside of Dean was overwhelming. His breathing was rapid, and his body was tense. The spiderweb grew. The glass it was made of started to fall. Dean could feel some of it burying into his flesh. His hand had gone numb by the time the cobweb wall had splintered and opened a new passageway.

Dean moved through it slowly, still feeling the stinging in his fingers and he gripped them, hugging them with his other hand.

Suddenly, the feeling was gone, and Dean heard footsteps echoing on a marble floor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read and Review!  
> Here you have it folks, chapter two. The creature has been revealed (at least what it looks like) and Dean is probably just as confused as all of you are. Once again, bear with me, things will get clearer as we go. More strangeness to come first though!  
> See you in the next chapter!


	3. Three

After hearing the footsteps, Dean also took the time to look around and try to figure out where he was. The walls of the room were black, the floors were made of white marble, and there were white Doric columns every few feet holding up an invisible endless ceiling.

The echoing noise continued and got closer. Voices in another language rang through the hall. Dean looked both ways before ducking behind one of the columns and its plinth. He pressed his back hard up against the cool ridged surface and slowly peeked around the side of it.

The same figures from before appeared, humanoid and made of yellowish white light. They had no discernable features besides their body shapes. No clothes. No eyes, noses, or mouths. Nothing that made them stand out beyond the energy they radiated out into the air.

There was something familiar about all of it though. The subtle ringing in Dean’s ears when he rounded back around the column and closed his eyes. The stinging sensation in Dean’s arm when the figures passed by. The electric power that swept over him like a wave in the ocean.

Once the strange creatures left the area, the dark came again. The figures turned a corner and Dean hesitated a moment before coming out from his hiding place. Slowly, he remembered his feet worked and Dean followed after the things.

Eventually, he reached a doorway, and paused. The voices came back, and Dean felt an overwhelming surge of something he couldn’t quite identify wash over him. The room he stepped into felt light, airy. All of the collective power all together was almost overwhelming. Dean’s arms prickled with goosebumps. His hair felt as though it was standing on end. The ringing was louder this time. Dean resisted the urge to cover his ears.

_“I managed to somehow manipulate the frequency.”_

Dean jumped, grabbing at his heart upon seeing the strange monster from before. The freak of nature looked over at him and Dean immediately tried to grab for it, struggling to keep his footing upon going right through the thing as though it were a spirit.

_“Your ears shall remain safe through this whole journey.”_

“And what journey is that? Asshat.” Dean glared, debating his irrational brain on whether or not it was a good idea to go for the thing again.

“ _Oh, just sit back and enjoy the show, why don’t you?”_ the creature cocked its head and smirked again before vanishing.

Dean’s mouth half hung open until the noise started up once more. The ringing was still subtle, just as the creature had promised, but the humanoid things made of light were still speaking in their strange tongue. Dean had had heard it before. In spells. In ramblings amongst beings not of his world.

Realization hit Dean as a train would a track walker.

They were angels. Every single thing in the room was an angel in its true form. Or at least, part of its true form. Dean felt frozen. His entire body was planted as he watched the beings speak to one another. They moved almost intimately, taking in the one before them with great ease and focus.

It was the most beautiful sight Dean had ever seen.

Not that he would ever admit that out loud.

Suddenly, it was as though the sea parted. A burst of light came from the door Dean stood in and he jumped back as several more figures brushed past him. There was a pause. A whisper of wind in the air. Two rows of glowing humanoids, all staring at two beings that came forth from the nothing and addressed them in the smoothest way possible. Their heads bowed and the others clasped what would have been hands in a praying fashion.

The last two figures to emerge from the long hallway Dean had just walked down stood for a moment, admiring the group before them. The one reached what would have been his arm up to pat the other on what would have been a shoulder and walked forward.

_“You have done well, my Brother.”_

The one being left the other’s side and stepped forward to greet the masses. The last being left, clearly the one in charge, stood and admired all before it before slowly turning its head to face Dean.

The hunter felt a chilling sensation take over. His arm burned even more so than before and his head ached down to his jaw, as though somebody was squeezing it with their fist. He winced upon looking the being in what would have been its eyes. Something else went through him. A warm, comforting feeling that he’d only felt a handful of times before that moment.

If the creatures were angels, there was no doubt in his mind that the one looking at him was Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read and Review!  
> Well, this chapter was a journey to write, but as the monster in this fic says, “enjoy the journey”. Christmas season has me drained and feeling crazy, that’s part of the reason this took so long. I also have one hell of a headache tonight. Just figured I would get this out before Christmas. Hope everyone has a good holiday and I’ll see you again real soon!


	4. Four

Dean felt a sense of vertigo overtake him and it was as though he was falling backwards before he got upright again. He opened his eyes, after nausea had already overtaken him, and blinked a few times before he adjusted to the sight of metal stacked upon metal.

Cars. He was surrounded by junked cars.

He remembered this day very well. The sounds of dogs barking in the distance. The smell of old car seat leather. The old oil spills deeply embedded in the dirt.

And young, eight-year-old Dean, hiding in one of Bobby Singer’s beat up long dead parts cars while Bobby and his father, John argued loudly in the car yard below. His hands over an even younger Sam’s ears.

“ _You don’t know what you’re talking about, Singer.”_ John glared, hands in his pockets, and ten days of lack of sleep dancing behind his eyes.

“ _If the kids don’t wanna go with ya, they can stay with me as long as they need to. No sense in dragging two kids along on a job they can’t even help with.”_ Bobby replied.

 _“They need their father, Bobby,”_ John commented with spite in his tone. Spite that made Dean jump ever so slightly at the bark of his voice. “ _Not some crazy old geezer whose gonna pump their head full of lies and other crap!”_

 _“Ya the one who brought ‘em here,”_ Bobby gave John a slight smirk. “ _They need consistency. They need as much stability as they can grasp right now, and until ya job is done, I can give them that. If you let me.”_

John bit his lip, clenching his teeth the whole time, and balling his fists up before taking a swing. The Dean who wasn’t hiding in the car closed his eyes tightly, as though he was the one taking the hit, and only opened them upon remembering what had truly happened that day.

Bobby took John’s fist in his palm, squeezed it, and twisted his arm until John cried out and fell to the ground. John’s flask hit the dirt and let out a loose cloud into the air. Bobby cast a glance at it and how the lid was open, but barely anything spilled out.

_“Pretty sure ya don’t need ta be driving kids around above the legal limit anyhow.”_

John grumbled a few words under his breath, and Dean sighed, closing his eyes, and trying not to let the anxiety take over. As it had that day so long ago. As it always did when he thought about his father.

_“And this is the part I fed off of already.”_

The creature appeared again, and Dean’s eyes widened upon seeing it. He considered tackling it and trying to get it right where he wanted it, but something paralyzed him once more. His feet felt as though they’d suddenly been filled with lead and he felt a cold shiver go down the full length of his spine.

Dean watched his younger self spring from the car nearby and run in front of Bobby before he could throw a single punch John’s way. John held his hand up, shielding his eyes from both the sun and Bobby. Dean watched his younger self turn towards his father, as though he was a scared animal trying to be brave, and put his hands up, pleadingly, in the air.

 _“I’ll go with you,”_ young Dean said. Dean mouthed the words along with him.

“ _Just please let Sammy stay.”_

Those words hung heavy in the air. Bobby took a small step back, and Dean observed how he stared at the back of his younger self’s head with a saddened gaze. It was clear to Dean now as an adult, at the time, Bobby had wanted nothing more than to pick Dean up into his arms and take him far away from anywhere John could reach.

But he hadn’t because he couldn’t. Dean wasn’t his kid and if he had done anything to go against John, he’d have never seen either of the boys ever again.

 _“Ya wanna stay here so badly, fine.”_ John scrambled to his feet, barely missing kicking Dean as he went.

“ _I can see how much more this grizzly old bastard means to ya than I do.”_

Dean remembered the confliction he’d felt in that moment. The feelings of guilt that had arose in his chest and crawled up his throat the moment his father’s words had hit him like a freight train. The publicly displayed disappointment in Dean that John often gave him more than love. It was enough to make a young man cry.

Dean had done no such thing.

Instead, he had watched John walk away, as he did now as an adult, and stumble as he went fast towards the Impala. He peeled out of Bobby’s junkyard faster than a robber running from the cops and young Dean coughed as the dust kicked up.

Sam had remained in the old junk car the entire time, silently crying his eyes out.

“You get off on all this.” Dean concluded, as the same creature from before materialized once again, on his right side.

“ _That’s a word for it,”_ the creature turned its head to look towards Dean and Dean glared.

_“Sustenance is the word I prefer. Speaking of, I believe its time for my next meal.”_

“Haven’t you had enough?!” Dean snarled and tried to grab at the thing before it sidestepped and turned to face the now fading scene before them.

 _“Time works differently within the mind,”_ the creature chuckled, mocking Dean as he tried to move some more. His body pivoted in slow motion, trying to find his footing as he went, but to no avail. Dean tripped, falling forward, and into another memory.

A memory that wasn’t his own.

 _“I’ll have you for as long as it takes to drain your mind dry,”_ the creature remarked with malice in its voice as it hissed out the words and chuckled again.

_“And they won’t find you until you’re nothing more than a husk of a man.”_

Dean grunted upon hearing more loud screeching in his ears and slowly reached his shaking hands up to cover them as his teeth ground together viciously.

_“See you again real soon, friend.”_

***

The moment the creature vanished; Dean felt his arms go numb from the sheer amount of time he’d spent covering his eardrums from the vicious sounding assault from above. He was back in the great hall, but the moment had changed. The memory was different from before.

And Chuck was there.

Chuck, in His self-created vessel, surrounded by human shaped balls of light and with an heir of confidence coming off Him in waves. He gave the crowd a small sideways smirk and surveyed the room.

Chuck motioned two balls of light forward. The two who had come into the room last during the previous memory in the hall. One of which was, undoubtedly, Castiel. They approached Chuck slowly and then took a knee, bowing their heads tentatively as they kneeled.

Chuck snapped his fingers and looked to the air behind him, as a cloudy shimmering image begun to take shape.

 _“Behold,”_ Chuck announced. _“My next great creation! It began with the two I showed you all originally, now it has come to be so much more!”_

Dean knew Chuck was most likely speaking Enochian, but once again, just like with the creature, his brain translated automatically.

 _“Adam and Eve were just the beginning,”_ Chuck motioned to the image and two humans appeared, one wearing rags and the other wearing what would be close to riches in olden times. The pair were fighting, the raggedy man holding his hand up to guard his face as the other richer looking man held a weapon above his head to strike.

Chuck snapped his fingers a second time and the two men fell to the ground, unconscious not dead, and the two angelic balls of light before Chuck lifted what looked like their heads just as the humans began to shake and vanish into particles and atoms.

The angels cried out as the humans’ visages started to grow over their being made of light. Fingers materialized first, covering their selves like snakeskin, and taking over like creeping vines. The two men in the image materialized before the other angelic beings, who all stepped back as the two before them transformed into something completely other than before.

Something new. Something far more foreign than the angels had ever seen previously.

Dean felt his chest twinge with pain and the hunter gritted his teeth and grabbed for his ribcage.

 _“Balthazar,”_ Chuck addressed the angel who had taken the visage of the man in richer clothing, his eyes going white before returning to the man’s green.

_“And Castiel. The first of my children to take on the image of Man.”_

Dean’s mouth was slightly agape at the sight of an ancient Castiel, hair still a mess despite this not being his latest vessel, clothes still disheveled, and eyes still as blue as the brilliant sky even after his angelic power settled.

Dean felt his heart jump and skip a few beats.

Castiel stood first, nodding at Chuck, and turning to face the other angelic balls of light. Balthazar stood beside his Garrison leader, admiring him, and smiling with pride. It was an awkward smile, as though the angel was testing out the human emotion for the first time (and Dean suspected he was), but it was still genuine.

_“For every one of my children, there is a vessel! Take them, with permission, as you desire and use them well for your tasks and duties towards Heaven, Earth, and Man!”_

Cheers rose from the crowd as Chuck finished speaking. Dean witnessed a few of the balls of light cock their blob like heads, still fascinated and confused by the whole ordeal. He noticed others, talking in Enochian amongst themselves.

The two angels in the forefront, stared at those in front of them, and took it all in. Dean watched Castiel look down at his now human fingers and flex them, still getting used to the idea of having a body. Of having an image other than luminescence and frequency.

There was something powerfully beautiful about it all.

Dean didn’t have long to admire though, before he noticed the scene rippling and held out his finger to touch where the air, where it promptly wiggled like water and shot downward much like a waterfall into nothingness.

Dean stood in the blackness once again, hearing the distant sounds of slurping and crunching in the dark distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read and Review!  
> The creature is showing Dean some harsh stuff, that’s for sure. This shall continue for a bit longer until we reach a point in which I feel its best for Dean to return to his world. Unless he’s somehow in his world all along…but perhaps trapped somehow?  
> All will be revealed.  
> See y’all again soon!

**Author's Note:**

> Read and Review!  
> Hey! Wow, yeah sorry that was so trippy right off the bat, but that was also kind of the point. You’ll get the gist quite soon of what’s going on, I can assure you. In the meantime, enjoy the strange ride if you choose to carry on with it.  
> Fair warning: This story will contain OCs that you do not really have to know beyond the chapters contained in this fic. They have existed in other fics of mine, so if you have perused those, you will most likely recognize their names. If not, they will be explained well enough to get the gist of their importance within this fic. This fic also contains Destiel. If that is not your cup of tea, I would advise going elsewhere.  
> See you in the next chapter!


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